


Sam Winchester Is Dying

by dcjuris



Series: Being Human [15]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Human Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Multi, Other, Wincestiel - Freeform, established wincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 16:43:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19749700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dcjuris/pseuds/dcjuris
Summary: Cas has a nightmare. (These works are not in any order at all, other than the way they come to me.)***THERE IS NO ACTUAL CHARACTER DEATH***





	Sam Winchester Is Dying

_Sam Winchester is dying. Cas tries desperately to stem the flow of blood, but he can't. It gushes out over his hands, splatters onto his clothes. In the dim light of the alley it looks black, but Cas knows it's vibrant, full of life._

_Sam's mouth moves, but whatever he's trying to say is lost in a gurgle._

_"Sam?" Dean rounds the corner at a run. "Sam! No, no, no, no, no!" His knees hit the ground with a thud next to them and he grabs for his brother's hand. "Cas! Do something!"_

_Cas shakes his head. "I can't."_

_"Damn it, save him!"_

_Tears slide down his cheeks. "I can't, Dean. I can't."_

_"Do something, Cas! Now! He's dying!"_

_Cas stands and backs away. Dean follows, brings all that righteous fury with him. His eyes burn bright with it as he snatches Castiel and slams him into the wall._

_"Save him, Cas! Cas! Do something!" He pulls Cas forward and shoves him back again and again._

_Cas feels blood trickle down the back of his neck. His scalp is split open, he's sure of it, but the physical pain is nothing compared to the pain in his heart, the pain in Dean's gaze. But there's nothing he can do. He's not Castiel, Angel of the Lord. He's just Cas. Broken, useless, worthless._

"Cas! Cas!"

Cas jerks, hauls a gasping breath in and chokes on it.

"Easy, easy." Dean's there, kneeling by him, but instead of anger, his eyes are full of concern, forehead wrinkled. He rubs circles over Cas' chest.

"Sam," Cas pushes the name out. "I couldn't save him! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Dean, please, you have to know how sorry I am!" He clutches handfuls of Dean's shirt in shaking hands.

"Sam's fine. It was a dream, Cas." Dean takes his hands and guides them down, presses his palms flat. "See? That's the couch. You fell asleep. You're in the Bunker, Cas."

Couch…? Bunker…? Cas slides his fingertips along, finds plush, soft cushions instead of hard, rough pavement. "Dean?"

"It's okay, man. You're okay. Everything's okay."

But he can't shake the feeling of Sam's lifeless body, of all that blood. "Sam?"

Dean leans back a little "Sam!" He uses that urgent bark that always brings Sam running.

Sam strides in a few seconds later. "What's wrong?"

Cas can't stifle the sob that barrels up his throat. He pushes himself to his feet and lunges at Sam. He wraps his arms around the younger Winchester and clings.

"Hey, hey, shhh…" Sam tucks him in close, spreads large, warm hands across his back. "Dean?"

"He fell asleep on the couch, had a nightmare. Think it had something to do with you."

And then Dean's there too, behind him, chest nestled up to Cas' back.

"You were dead." Cas presses his face into Sam's neck.

Sam drops kisses onto the top of his head. "I'm okay, Cas."

Dean reaches from behind and takes Cas' hands again.

The whine of protest that escapes is humiliating.

"Shhh… It's okay. Just trust me."

Dean moves their hands together, runs them up under Sam's shirt, presses Cas' palms flat against Sam's back.

Cas gasps at the feel of solid warmth.

"Feel that?" Sam asks.

He nods frantically. The proof of life settles in his belly, and now he realizes how empty he was without it.

"I'm okay." Sam slides his hands away from Cas' back and cradles his face. He bends down, meets their lips together in a soft, sweet kiss. "I'm okay," he murmurs against Cas' lips.

Dean presses close from behind, leans up and whispers something to Sam. Sam groans and slips his leg in between Cas' thighs. Dean settles his hands on Cas' hips and guides him, grinding his crotch against Sam's leg.

It's a strange juxtaposition—he's still raw from the dream, from the fear of losing Sam and ultimately Dean. But he can't deny the surge of lust, of pure need. He hangs on as Sam and Dean move, riding the wave of pleasure as it slowly obliterates everything else. It's not long before he's participating, humping Sam's leg like a dog in heat.

"That's it, angel," Dean rumbles in his ear. Dean tugs the tail of Cas' shirt and slides his hands up.

Cas cries out when those calloused fingers toy with his nipples. In all his time as an angel, in the hundreds and hundreds of years he considered himself _alive_ , he never felt like this. Maybe it's the dream, maybe it's just the Winchesters, but everything is magnified. Every sigh fills his head, every glancing touch lights up his nerves. He moves with them, or maybe they move for him, he's not sure. Even through his jeans and underwear, he can feel Dean's hard cock snug against his ass. He glances down—Sam's arousal is evident as well. In any other moment, he might try to see to them. There's nothing he loves more than bringing them both to release at the same time. But not now. Now, he can't. Now, he needs this.

"Feels good, yeah?" Dean asks, voice deep, whisky-rough.

Cas mewls in reply. He digs his nails into Sam's skin and receives a hiss in response. He's close now—the rough friction of denim against his cock is maddening, at once too much and not enough. Every few seconds he feels the scrape of the zipper, just this side of painful. Sam and Dean are warm against him as he writhes.

"C'mon, angel. Gonna dirty up those jeans for us?"

And that's it. He shudders and squeezes his eyes shut as his orgasm hits.

"So fuckin' sexy," Sam whispers. "Fuck, Cas."

Cas can't help but sag against him. He feels as though his entire body has been stripped of strength, like his legs won't hold him.

Sam senses it. Sam wraps an arm around Cas' waist and lifts him off his feet. Cas will never not marvel at his strength. Monsters are wrong with they say humans are weak. Sam walks them back to the couch.

For a moment, Cas panics. He's not sure he ever wants to sit on that evil couch ever again. But Dean coaxes him away from Sam, and they settle down together, with Cas stretched out. He lays his head in Sam's lap, his bare feet in Dean's.

He gropes for Sam's waistband, but Sam stops him.

"Just relax."

Dean picks up one of his feet and begins to massage it, digging his knuckles into the meat of Cas' heel while Sam grabs for the remote and turns on the TV.

He lays there on the perhaps not so evil couch, as Sam runs long fingers through his hair and rubs his scalp. His jeans are wet, soaked through with cum, but somehow he doesn’t mind. It's a touchstone, as much as either of the Winchesters are, that grounds him in the here and now. He is grateful for it, for Sam and Dean, for the bond between them, even as it leads him to terrifying dreams, because it means what he feels is real. He wouldn't be so afraid of losing them if it wasn't.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also a published author. If you like my writing style, check out my published works on Amazon by searching "DC Juris" - that's me. :-)


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